Initial D: Front Runners
by pilot-tenkawa
Summary: The exciting new parallel story to Drift Kings 2!
1. Chapter 1

**INITIAL D: FRONT RUNNERS**

A/N: Hey, everybody! Sorry I've been gone for forever, been pretty busy with stuff. Anyway, this is a side story to Drift Kings 2, and it will all come together before long, but these first chapters are really a prologue. So, welcome my new set of characters, as well as what is hopefully a much better work of fiction then any of my previous works. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT own Initial D, Wangan Midnight, any cars I mention, or anything else that belongs to anyone else. Except my OC's, I get to keep them.

ACT ZERO, PART ONE:

**February 27, 1999**

**Tokyo, Japan, A parking area near Tatsumi, on the Wangan line-1:12 AM:**

Tanaka Kenji clenched and unclenched his knuckles across the cool metal edges of his steering wheel as he watched a few flakes of snow drift lazily across the long hood of his car. He leaned forward, resting his head against the wheel, feeling the gentle tug across his shoulders from the Sparco racing harness as he did so. This was it. Almost a year now he'd been running the highways around Tokyo, and tonight was what it had all been leading up to.

He took one final deep breath, inserted the shifter into first, and eased off the clutch as he applied power. His Nissan Skyline GT-R rolled slowly from the parking area and made its way to the freeway on-ramp. Kenji locked his eyes forward, drove slowly down the ramp for a moment, then gunned the engine.

The GT-R responded almost instantaneously, lurching forward with a violence only slightly mediated by its advanced all-wheel-drive system. The heavy car pulled out into the six lanes of asphalt; there was little traffic at this hour of the morning and in this cold.

As he accelerated past 70 KmH, shifting into second gear as he did so, he flipped a small switch seated next to the gauge cluster on the dash. The engine suddenly roared up as the exhaust system was bypassed and it began running straight off of the headers.

Kenji shifted through third and fourth, watching his speedometer rise well past 200 KmH as he hit fifth gear and sped over Rainbow Bridge. Then, by the roadside, he saw it. Or rather, he saw them. Two cars parked beside the road, painted in the stand-out two-tone black-on-white of the Tokyo Metro Police. They had certainly heard him coming, perhaps several kilometers out, but they made no attempt to stop him as he flashed past them.

_Not that they can really do anything,_ He thought, _But it's not them I'm worried about…_

It took less time than Kenji thought for the real trouble to show itself, as a fast approaching pair of lights appeared less than 5 minutes later. The trailing vehicle drew ever closer until eventually Kenji could make out the flashing red light-bar across the roof.

The black-and-white car continued to close in, flashing its light blue tinted high-beams as it did so.

Kenji smiled grimly to himself. This was the life he'd chosen, this was how things would be from now on.

**April 7, 1995:**

"Tanaka Kenji."

Kenji stood, somewhat shocked, then marched to the front of the room, and stood alongside the podium with the other three individuals whose names had been called. Behind the podium stood the Captain of Kenji's precinct, a small man named Yamada.

He spoke, "With regards to your specific skills demonstrated, impeccable character, and exemplary service, the four of you are hereby transferred to the Special Pursuit Division. Congratulations and good luck."

Kenji snapped a smart salute, along with the others, but it was merely through reflex that he was able to complete the action. Special Pursuit Division? He had heard rumors that there would be spots opening, but had never guessed that he might be so fortunate as to be selected for one. This was going to be-

_Great! Oh, just great!_ Kenji thought to himself.

He swore as he brought the modified Toyota Crown that was his training vehicle back to the edge of the skid pad.

"Alright, now, start from neutral and go again. Remember, under 20 seconds this time."

Kenji nodded, suppressing his desires to throw the instructor out of the car and practice maneuvers _over him_. Kenji slipped the shifter back into neutral, built up the revs, and waited for the instructor's call.

"3, 2, 1…GO!"

Kenji grabbed first gear and dumped the clutch, tires squealing in protest as the heavy four-door jumped forward. He held in the clutch and grabbed the e-brake, sliding the car around several cones, before doing a 180 degree turn around a pylon and repeating the series back to the starting point.

He slammed on the brakes and skidded the car across the line as the instructor clicked off the stopwatch.

"20.19. Start from neutral, go again."

It took all of Kenji's willpower not to slam his head against the seat in disgust.

**September 20, 1995:**

Kenji stepped out of the elevator and walked into the long, echoing structure that was the Special Pursuit Division's garage. He began walking down the open center area, checking the numbers stenciled in yellow above each space. In every space sat a car, soon to be some officer or another's high performance machine. He studied the machines as he passed; an old 70-series Supra, a Soarer, a Fairlady Z, a new FD3S RX-7, a pair of older FC RX-7s, a brand new R33 Skyline, and then – space number 107. His car.

Kenji felt a smile begin to creep in at the corners of his mouth. He pulled the keyring he'd just received out of his pocket, and unlocked the driver's door of the R32 Skyline. He slid into the factory bucket seat, but couldn't find the seatbelt when he reached for it. He looked behind him, then smiled and pulled up the straps of a four-point racing harness. He fiddled with the straps for a moment; apparently the mechanic who'd brought the car here was quite a bit…stockier than Kenji.

Having solved that issue, he buckled the clasp at his waist and slid the key into the ignition. The sound as he turned the key sent chills down his spine.

_Yes,_ he thought, patting the leather wrapped steering wheel, _you and I will get along quite well._

**February 27, 1999, the Wangan Line – 1:19AM:**

Kenji wove his gray Skyline through the increasingly small space between a Mitsubishi truck and the concrete center median wall. The police Supra trailing him disappeared behind the truck then was back again, coming around the opposite side. Kenji gritted his teeth, trying to find some way to dislodge the other car from his rear bumper.

As he passed under a bright green road sign, Kenji suddenly got the answer. According to the sign, it was 1.5 kilometers until the turn-off from this part of the Tokyo highway onto the inner route, the C1. And that turn was a left that could be quite sudden and sharp when approached at well over 200 KmH.

Kenji pressed harder on the gas, trying to gain even a few meters on the Supra, but to no avail. Up ahead, however, he could see the inverse "Y" formed by the off-ramps onto and off of the C1 highway. He began to slowly edge the car into the left-most lane, positioning himself at what would soon be the inside line for the corner.

Then, the roads split. Kenji dove into the left corner, waiting until the last possible second to brake and sliding the heavy Skyline through the corner, still keeping his speed above 100KmH. As he did, he saw the front end of the Supra behind him dive as the driver braked hard and soon.

_You never could get me in a late braking contest, Hajime._

As his car exited the left turn, Kenji held in the clutch and pulled the e-brake, spinning the car 180 degrees and sliding it into the opposite lane of traffic. Now facing into the Outbound C1 lane, he gunned the engine again and pulled away, leaving the Supra well behind…

The memory of that night still somewhat haunted Kenji. He took a deep breath and held it, trying to clear his mind of such things. When he reached a count of ten, he stood swiftly from his position kneeling on the tatami floor and, in a single smooth motion, unsheathed the katana he wore at his waist, flitting it through a series of tight turns. His imaginary foes vanquished, he returned the sword to his waist, drawing it forward over the edge of the _saya_ scabbard before sliding the weapon back into place. He resumed his kneeling pose on the floor and took another deep breath, the walls of the empty dojo still echoing slightly of the sword's re-entry to its home at his side.

Then, the gentle reverberations of steel-on-steel were drowned out by the swish of the sliding door behind him being opened. Kenji turned slowly to see who had interrupted him and found himself facing another man, about his age, and rather tall for a Japanese person.

The man smiled, "You know you should have just done Judo like the rest of us."

Kenji smiled back at the man, "So you tell me, Hajime. But I've always found _Iaido_ much more…cleansing."

Itazura Hajime shrugged, then looked over to a series of bamboo _shinai_ hanging on the wall. "Care for a quick round?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the training weapons.

Kenji grinned a predator's smile, one he hadn't used in many years, and nodded in affirmation, setting his still sheathed katana back on its ceremonial stand. He turned and deftly caught the bamboo sword that had been tossed to him. The two men squared off in the center of the room and gently tapped the ends of their blades together, forming an "X" in the air between them.

"So, Kenji," Hajime said, as both men drew back and assumed their respective stances, "about a month ago, this silver GT-R blitzed me on the C1. Any ideas about that?"

As he said the question, he lunged forward with a thrust at Kenji's midsection. Kenji parried it to the side and retaliated with a rising, diagonal slash.

"This guy managed to take you on the C1? No idea, my friend."

Hajime sidestepped Kenji's slash and came in with a series of high, heavy-handed blows at his head. Kenji stepped left, right, and then caught the third attack on his "blade". The loud snap of the bamboo swords echoed loudly as both men spun away, Kenji taking a neutral stance while Hajime held his sword in an aggressive, high stance.

"That's too bad, I'd been hearing some rumors that you were getting to know some people in the _wangan_ racing scene."

Hajime came at Kenji again, first a set of two high blows which Kenji blocked, followed with a sudden slash at Kenji's legs. Narrowly avoiding the strike, Kenji swept his own sword along Hajime's, sending it farther along his attack angle than he planned and unbalancing him slightly. Kenji took the opportunity and made a fast slash at Hajime's right arm.

Hajime hissed in pain as the weapon connected, the loose bamboo strips snapping a thin, pink line down his arm. Kenji's predatory smile returned as they squared themselves yet again.

"Sorry, but I really don't know much. At least, no more than when we worked together."

Hajime, now fueled by pain and adrenaline, came at Kenji again. This time he was taking fewer chances, attacking from a middle stance and making mostly simpler, but still effective, slashes at Kenji's torso. Kenji dodged those he could, and parried the occasional one he could not move from, waiting for a breach in his old friend's guard.

"Anyway," Hajime said, his voice strained from the effort of combat, "What are you driving these days Kenji? You always did have good taste in cars…"

Kenji almost lost his balance at the question, but quickly recovered and spun to Hajime's left side. A sudden hard slash landed just above the hilt guard on Hajime's sword and sent it spinning across the room. Kenji, smiling and panting a little from the exertion of the fight, lifted the cloth covered tip of his blade to hover in front of Hajime's throat.

"I think I win," he said, lowering the mock sword and leaning against it.

Hajime nodded, conceding, "That you did. Well done." Suddenly, his eyes changed.

"A word of advice, though, Kenji; don't make runs past our sector again. Next time you won't lose me."

Kenji arched an eyebrow, "Should I know what that means?"

"Just remember."

With that, Hajime returned to his usual self, his eyes losing that momentary hardness, "Well, thanks for the match. I'll see you around…one way or another…"

As Hajime strode from the building, Kenji replaced then shinai on its wall hanger, resumed his kneeling pose on the floor, and took another deep breath, holding it to a count of ten.

**March 20, 1999; Bihoro Touge, Hokkaido - 11:38 PM:**

The deep blue Nissan Stagea slowly began to shrink in her rear-view mirror as Akima pressed harder on the accelerator, her custom twin-turbo MR2 launching forward in a burst of turbocharged torque. The large diameter blow-off valves chirped loudly as she grabbed third gear, then again when she let off the gas and pulled the hand brake. The SW20 spun into a long high-speed drift, the Kaminari front bumper mere inches from the guard rails and the trees beyond.

Some might accuse one of toying with an opponent; drifting like that, when one had only a tenuous grasp on the lead, but Akima Blaise never really saw it that way. What's the point in winning by a mile, when winning by 5 yards was so much more fun? And at the end of the day, isn't that what it was all about anyway? If anything, she was giving her opponents another chance. If she lost while having some fun with the lead, then so be it.

Not that she was going to lose tonight. She had to admit, though, this guy had some guts. A Stagea may practically be a GT-R underneath, but on top, it was still a station wagon. A very fast one, but a wagon, nonetheless. If this were the wangan, maybe she'd have to work a little harder, but a near stock Stagea versus her MR2 on the touge?

Several minutes later and, just as she had guessed, it was a clean win. Akima pulled her MR2 onto the gravel shoulder that was being used as a makeshift parking lot by the racers. She exited the car, being sure to grab her parka from the passenger seat. It may have been late March, but the snow was barely gone from the mountain passes, to speak nothing of the cold.

Her current "team" members, a loose coalition of drivers who lived near each other and helped each other, looked up as she came over.

"Blaze!" Toshi, probably the best of the group after her, called out, "Nice win, there."

She nodded in thanks, then stopped to look up at the night sky.

"So who's next?"

"Who?" Akima asked.

"Sure, you've still got Takayama to beat, y'know."

Takayama. The current #1 on this particular touge. A man with a perfectly set-up TRD KP61 Starlet and the skills to back it up.

"Honestly," she said, "I don't think I wanna try going after him…"

Toshi nearly fell backwards against his yellow Integra Type R.

"Y-y-you, you what?"

Akima shrugged, "Think about it, if I win, I become the best, right?"

"Well, I mean, yes. I thought that was the point."

Akima shook her head condescendingly, "No, no, no. The point is to enjoy yourself. If I was #1, I'd have to deal with being challenged all the time by, well, people like you. And where's the fun in that?"

It took Toshi a few seconds to recover from that. Finally, though, he regained his voice.

"So, what'll you do next?"

Akima stood silent for a few moments, staring up at the stars. Then she turned back with a big grin.

"Y'know, I_ have_ always wanted to go to Tokyo."

**March 23, 1999; Yokohama docks - 12:05 AM:**

Darren Rochteaux pulled his Honda NSX alongside a bright purple Mazda Roadster and killed the engine, flipping off the series of toggle switches on his carbon fiber center console that controlled the fuel pump and ignition circuits. He freed himself from the Takata harness and slid the Mugen S1 racing seat forward, flipping the latch for the engine cover as he did so. He opened the cover, allowing the engine to rest in the cool night air. He came back around to the front of the car and bent back inside to retrieve his camera bag from behind the seat.

"I'm going to have to confiscate your camera, sir."

Darren nearly jumped out of his skin as a voice came from the unlit warehouse door behind him. He held the bag out with one hand toward the voice. As he did, a Japanese man emerged slowly from the shadows. Darren saw the man reach around his back.

_Oh, God,_ he thought, _This guy's gotta be yakuza...he's gonna shoot me…_

Then he noticed the man lean forward and double over laughing, barely able to stay on his feet.

Only then did Darren notice the large "SR Powered" sticker on the back of the man's black shirt. The man walked over, putting his arm around Darren's shoulder.

"Sorry, I just couldn't resist that. You're here for the street drift, right?"

Darren, still not fully recovered, nodded mutely.

"Me too. Glad to meet you, my Honda driving friend. My name's Gotou. Ohashi Gotou. I'm a bit of a racer myself. See that silver car over there?"

Darren followed Gotou's finger, "You mean that R32? It's gorgeous…"

Gotou smiled, "Isn't it just. Too bad it's not mine. I have the S14 next to it."

Darren adjusted his view and had to work to keep the shock of his face. Gotou's S14 had originally been white. Or maybe it was red…there were enough body parts of both colors that Darren couldn't guess for sure. The rest of the car was a primer-gray INGS bodykit that was held on with at least 4 colors of zip-ties, and held together with something like 3 colors more.

"Looks…nice."

"I know, right. Just wait till you see how it looks sideways. Speaking of which, I better go get ready. See you around, Afuro-man!"

Darren forced a smile as the man left. In all his time in Japan he had never thought he would encounter someone like that. He shuddered slightly, then started back toward his car to wait for the races to start.

That was when he saw her. A slim asian woman bent over his car's rear fender, snapping pictures of his engine bay. Normally this wouldn't bother him, but the fact that she wore a mechanic's jumpsuit with a speed shop's logo on it bothered him a bit.

Darren's NSX carried within it a C32B V6 from a new NSX. And it had been modified by a close friend of his with a fortune's worth of Mugen parts until it was as it sat now: a street de-tuned version of the NSX touring car's engine. He had never liked the idea that speed shops would spy on each other's work. He knew it probably happened, probably a lot, but it still bugged him.

As he began to walk toward his car, she looked up and saw him coming. She spun and darted back into the darkness between some buildings. He saw a set of red lights flash as she started her car, then watched as an extremely dark red SW20 MR2 pulled out into the street nearby. Darren knew there was no watch he could catch her now. HE had noticed one interesting thing though: her MR2 had a set of Hokkaido number plates.

Kenji Tanaka watched the girl sprint over to her SW20 as the African-American man watched her. Then he was interrupted by the return of one Ohashi-san.

"Gotou," Kenji said, "If I was still a cop, I'd charge you with harassment for what you did to that American."

"Who, Afuro-man? He'll be fine, besides, I haven't had fun like that since we were in high school. You remember whe-"

Kenji held up a hand, "Not tonight, my friend. I want to actually enjoy being here tonight," he said with a bit of a smirk.

Gotou smiled, "Spoilsport."

"Just drive, Gotou."

**END**

So ends Act Zero, part 1! Stay tuned for part 2 when a new team will take rise! As always, R&R please!


	2. Chapter 2

**INITIAL D: FRONT RUNNERS**

**DISCLAIMER: **With the exception of my OC's, I OWN NOTHING MENTIONED HERE. Yay for me.

ACT ZERO - PART 2

**March 23, 1999; Yokohama Docks, 12:18 AM:**

"_Sate, minna-san,"_ a man called from the front of the crowds, "We're going to start some _tsuiso_ rounds now!"

As his voice echoed across the warehouses of the Yokohama dockyard, a cheer rose from the gathered crowd. A series of machines, engine tones rising and dropping as the drivers revved gas pedals and released clutches, formed up in opposing lines down both sides of a long alley between a pair of buildings. Each car was lined up directly opposite from another: that driver's opponent for the _tsuiso_, or tandem drift, rounds.

Kenji looked across the narrow street from Gotou's S14. It appeared that the increasingly dilapidated Nissan had been paired against a vibrant white Toyota Chaser. A Chaser driven by a woman, no less. Kenji shook his head, wondering what Gotou's reaction would be at losing to her. Then again, maybe it was better not to think about that…

Gotou and the Chaser were the third of the groups set to run the Yokohama Bay drift course; the first being a pair of 180SXs, followed by a good looking 70-series Supra – which Kenji noticed bore the same tuning company logo as the Chaser – against an RE Amemiya kitted FC3S RX-7.

Kenji's attention returned to the track as the 180SX duo came around the second-to-last corner on their return trip, their rear tires nearly invisible behind the wall of deep gray smoke. At the last possible moment, they both spun nearly 90 degrees, inverting the angle of their drifts and sliding around the edge of a concrete barrier.

The two cars crossed the finish line, with the neon metallic blue one that had been leading going into series of smoking donuts as the driver sat on the door, rodeo style. Kenji smiled and joined in the applause as the crowd cheered on the victorious driver. Not that anyone actually kept track of scores or anything, everyone was just here to have fun and, hopefully, win some bragging rights. Kenji preferred racing a bit more seriously, but had to admit that the relaxed atmosphere wasn't bad at all.

The 180 drivers having returned to the "paddock", the next two cars were ushered forward. Kenji was rather surprised when, upon further inspection, he realized he'd never heard of the shop the Supra bore stickers naming. He considered himself quite familiar with those shops in and around Tokyo and Yokohama, but the sight of the car's Nikko Prefecture number plates had things making sense.

Nikko, eh?

Kenji had heard, though mainly from Gotou, that there was some exciting stuff going on in the mountains in central Japan.

The RX-7 also bore plates from a more mountainous region, but Kenji knew this driver well, by reputation at least. The man, few actually knew his name, had established himself pretty well when he beat the black FD RX-7 and rather disturbingly pink Z32 Fairlady that had been dominating Yokohama's point-to-point racing for some time.

The two white cars, both very similar looking, were it not for their touring-car-esque body modifications, pulled up to the line and waited for the starter, with staccato pops-hisses from turbo wastegates cutting through the sound of the crowd.

The starter dropped both hands and the two cars launched hard, the deep roar from the Supra's inline 6-cylinder providing a bass counterpoint to the RX-7's stratospheric rotary. The better low-end torque from the Supra allowed it to pull into a leading position going into the first corner – a tight hairpin left that wound in a 180 degree turn around a stack of shipping containers.

The Supra driver feinted right, then tapped the brakes and spun the car back to the left, getting back on the gas vigorously as he did so. The RX-7's brake lights remained dark, but as it spun sideways, Kenji saw the rear wheels locked up – the driver had used the hand brake to scrub off speed and get a better angle of entry on the deceptively sharp corner.

The Supra cleared the containers by a wide margin, sliding by at very high speed with plumes of smoke pouring off the rear tires in what was effectively a moving burnout. The RX-7 trailing managed a much tighter line, coming within mere inches of the leading edge of the heavy steel containers and leaving a slight streak of paint from the front bumper across the far side of the metal box.

His shorter line, however, allowed him to exit the corner inside the Supra's line, forcing the suddenly trailing Toyota driver to tap the brakes; allowing the RX-7 time to get into its high-end powerband and pull away by a car length.

The two cars flashed past the area where the crowd, now wild with excitement from the daring overtake, stood screaming and cheering alongside the course.

Diving into the consequent sweeping right corner that snaked across a parking lot, the Supra driver simply let off the gas for a moment, then as he steered hard into the corner and began to counter, floored the accelerator again, kicking the rear out in a style not dissimilar from his approach in the first turn.

The RX-7 driver, in an effort to keep his engine in the high revs it so relished, didn't slow down much for the corner and gave the clutch a firm step as he entered the start. The 13B roared up, bouncing off the 10,000 RPM rev limiter as use of the clutch briefly removed all resistance from the transmission. This sudden shock to the powertrain snapped the rear loose and spun the car into a long drift, with occasional bursts of RPM echoing as further clutch kicks sustained the long slide.

Kenji failed to see which car managed to come out of the corner ahead as the turn took them behind a series of low office buildings and out on the service access road for the docks.

When next he caught sight of them, they were rounding the final corner for their chosen course – a long, right sweeper that carried them within yards of the dock's edge and the bay beyond.

He heard the roar of engines long before he saw the cars, but then they appeared, rear tires billowing as always, with the two cars almost perfectly side-by-side, the Supra inside near the crowd, the RX-7 outside, edging ever close to the sea.

Kenji saw a spray of pebbles be thrown into the dark water back the RX-7's wide rear tires, sending up a small series of splashes.

The two cars were both able to keep their lines and hold their drift angles across the finish line from the opposite side than that of the 180SXs had been. As both cars slowly returned to the paddocks, Kenji marveled at the skills of the two men; there was no way he could really call a winner on the round.

He returned his gaze to Gotou, who had just fired up his SR20 and was letting the engine idle for a moment to warm up; not a bad idea given just how cold it could get out here this time of year.

Across the row, the man who had driven the Supra exited the vehicle and headed down the row of cars. Kenji was rather surprised to see that the man was not Japanese…this was something he'd have to look into.

The foreigner walked over to where the driver of the Chaser was belting herself into the Bride seat and Takata harness. He pointed out to some part of the course, wove his hand through a maneuver of some sort, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and walked out to the start/finish line, circling his right hand above his head as he did so.

Gotou, already behind the wheel, edged his car up to the line, giving the woman in the Chaser an unmistakable grin that Kenji was glad he was not on the receiving end of. Kenji shook his head in disgust; Gotou had always thought he was such the ladies' man.

**June 14, 1988; outskirts of the Nerima Ward, Tokyo:**

"_Oi, onee-chan_, wait up!"

Kenji knew who the voice belonged to even though he couldn't see him. He shook his head in disgust; Gotou was always thinking he was such the ladies' man. Kenji pushed off of the underside of the transmission bell housing, sending the crawler he laid on sliding out from under his deep green Toyota Celica.

"Gotou, if you're going to do that," Kenji sailed, watching the dark blue sailor-uniformed girls walk away, "do it somewhere other than in front of my house. I don't want the police asking why I'm harassing high school girls."

Gotou rolled his eyes, but relinquished with a smile. He turned his attention from Kenji's grease-stained t-shirt and rolled-down mechanics jumpsuit to the car that sat behind him.

"What're you working on today?"

"Installing my new clutch. The old one wasn't gonna last long between the miles on it and the new carb setup I just finished."

Gotou's eyes caught a mischievous glint, "So, you finally finished with the Mikunis, eh? I expect that means you'll be back on the street with us soon, yes?"

"Us?" Kenji arched an eyebrow, "Since when is there an 'us'? You don't race, Gotou."

"Correction: I didn't race."

"So, you've finally got yourself a car, huh? What, you buy a beater Bluebird off somebody?"

Gotou rolled his eyes, "Oh, ha-ha, Kenji. As a matter of fact, no. But you did get the maker right."

"Okay, so you've got a Nissan. Stop being so coy and just show me already."

"If I drove it here, I would. But I didn't. So you'll just have to come out to Yokohama tonight to see it."

"Alright," Kenji said, shrugging, "I was planning to hit the wangan tonight anyway, make sure I got the carbs jetted right."

**A Parking Lot on the Wangan Line:**

Kenji pulled into a parking space at the service station, being careful not to get too close to the bright orange Z432R Fairlady in the adjacent space. He killed the engine and stepped out into the noise of the crowd filling the parking area.

His eyes trailed along the rows of parked cars, noting the different levels of competition that had come out to race that night. Up at the far end of the lot were the top tier racers – the guys who could afford to buy and modify a Porsche 911 Turbo to pass 200Kmh. Down from them were the people running the new Supra and RX-7 Turbos, as well as DR30 and R31 Skylines and a few Z31 Fairladys. And then, at the end of the line, the people like Kenji; an assortment of other Celicas, Celica XXs, older Skylines, and a pair of brand new S13 Silvias.

Suddenly, Gotou appeared from behind one of the S13s.

"Kenji! Good to see you!"

Kenji waved at his friend, "Yes, Gotou, I'm here. Now where's this car you won't let me see?"

Gotou grinned devilishly and waved Kenji around the back of the S13s and a Hakosuka Skyline.

"Well, Kenji, I'd say I did pretty well, yeah?"

Kenji had to admit, Gotou, it seemed, had actually pulled something off quite well. Before the two teens sat an 8-year-old Nissan S110 Silvia coupe. Gotou opened the driver's door and flipped the hood release.

"And check this," he said, lifting and propping the hood.

"Freshly built engine with an HKS turbo – makes something like 160 horsepower."

Kenji gave a low whistle, "Not bad, Gotou. Not bad at all."

**11 Years Later, Yokohama Docks, 12:37 AM:**

As soon as the cars came around the first corner, Kenji knew that Gotou was in over his head. The Chaser led by slightly more than one car length, throwing the rear of the heavy four-door within mere inches it seemed of the concrete barriers, all the while maintaining a high speed, high angle slide. Gotou, however, was not about to go down without a fight and floored it into the corner, using the burst of torque from his S14's turbo to exceed the limits of the tires' grip through raw power.

Unfortunately for Gotou, while the maneuver looked fantastic and remained high speed, it brought him in at a poor angle for the sharp right that formed the second half of the "S" curve. The Chaser feinted gracefully and spun rightside, rear tires locking as the driver used the handbrake to scrub off speed.

Gotou, whose speed had carried him a scant few meters past his apex, tapped the brake and popped the clutch, aggressively spinning the car to the right, but not quite sharply enough. Kenji winced as the scrape of FRP on concrete echoed across the dockyards. He looked up to see Gotou entering the next corner, with his rear bumper now barely still attached to the car.

When Gotou returned to the paddock something like three minutes later, it was all Kenji could do to keep from laughing. The rear bumper, still primer-gray, dragged along the ground, attached to the car by a single black zip-tie. The left side skirt had been torn free, then lashed to the trunk, with a pair of bungie cords looped around the carbon fiber spoiler to hold the piece of fiber-reinforced-polymer in place.

The true horror, however, was what had become of the Nissan's front clip. At some point, it appeared that Gotou had…"grazed" one of the many warehouses or container stacks scattered around the course. The INGS front bumper now sported a massive crack down the right side and had a large chunk taken out of the center, where the intercooler and radiator had been crushed somewhat and forced backwards into the engine bay.

Gotou pulled the car into a parking space, a few chips of plastic from the shattered left right headlight dropping onto the ground as the car lurched to a halt. Gotou left the engine running, stepped out, then walked to the front of the car and popped the hood.

He bent down over the mangled front of the engine bay, careful to avoid a jet of steam from the partially punctured radiator.

"Looks expensive," Kenji said, leaning in over his friend's shoulder. That earned Kenji a quick glare from the other driver.

Gotou turned, "Is there a mechanic in the house?" he said, speaking to no one in particular.

Toward the back of the crowd, one hand went up.

"Afuro-man?" Gotou said, raising and eyebrow at the foreigner.

The American came forward, joining Gotou and Kenji beside the S14's engine bay. After a moment, he looked back up at the two Japanese.

"You got a garage?"

Gotou shook his head, "Not really, but I've got a friend who'll let me borrow a maintenance stall at his shop."

"Lemme know if you ever want a 2JZ or something to replace that with," a new voice came from behind.

The three men turned around and found themselves talking to the owner of the white Supra from the earlier race.

Gotou barked a quick laugh, "Yeah, no thanks. I'm quite happy with my engine."

The man shrugged, "Don't say I didn't offer."

He started to leave, then turned back and quickly added, gesturing toward the white Chaser, "Oh yeah, and don't talk to or look at her like that again, _wakaru_?"

Kenji stifled yet another laugh as Gotou nodded and the man left. He looked over to where the dark-skinned American was now inside Gotou's S14, checking the response from the accelerator as Gotou watched over his shoulder.

Kenji shook his head; it looked like he had another follower now. At the rate this was going, he'd have a full team assembled without ever trying.

END


	3. Chapter 3

**INITIAL D: FRONT RUNNERS**

**Disclaimer: the same as always**

**A/N: And we're back yet again! The end of the semester + the end of "Dreaming of Akina" have persuaded me to get myself back in gear. This is also the end of the prologue chapters, as this and DK: 2****nd**** Stage will come back together and the end of this chapter and truly be parallel stories. Yay! Anyway, what with there being only 1 week left in the semester, hopefully Christmas break will give me some time to get the next chapter written a little faster.**

ACT ZERO, PART THREE:

April 02, 1999; Edogawa Ward, Tokyo:

_Bzzzzt-bzzzzt-bzzzzt_

Akima Blaise rolled over onto her stomach, covering her head with the fringe of her comforter as her cell phone vibrated itself along the edge of the table beside her.

_Bzzzzt-bzzzzt-bzzzzt_

She pushed herself deeper into her futon, trying to make the phone go away through sheer force of will. Unfortunately for Akima, as she did this the phone reached the corner of the table and vibrated itself over the edge, dropping onto her right arm with a muffled thump.

Finally giving up, she tossed off her comforter and picked up the phone.

"_Nanda?_" She mumbled, too tired to really care about politeness.

"Yo, Blaze-chan, _genki_?"

Akima rolled her eyes as she recognized the voice on the phone.

"Toshi, what exactly do you want?"

Her former team member's voice returned, "I don't talk to you for weeks and this is how you greet me? Whatever is happening to society?"

Akima was preparing a sharp retort when Toshi moved on.

"Anyway, Kei, Tarou and I are currently up in Tochigi; figured while we were in Honshu we'd see if you wanted to come out and tear up some of the local touge drivers with us."

"What, tonight?"

"Yeah, why not. We'll be running Irohazaka if you feel like coming. Oh, and you'll probably want to bring a jacket. It's like being back in Hokkaido out here…"

"Oh, come on Kenji, I know touge's not really your thing, but it's still awesome to watch. Plus it'll be a chance for Afuro-man here to show us what he's got."

Kenji and Darren turned to Gotou at the same time and bearing the same expression. Gotou put his hands up in mock surrender, "Hey, c'mon guys, Wangan can't be the extent of your racing lives."

Kenji rolled his eyes and sighed, "Much as I hate to agree with you Gotou, you do have a point," he looked to Darren, "We need to see you drive. You're some mechanic, I'll give you that, but if you're gonna stay with us, you have to prove you can keep up."

Darren, obviously somewhat concerned, still managed to answer confidently, "Alright then. Where are we headed?"

Gotou smiled, "Irohazaka."

The other two men nodded, then split off; Darren returning to the final repairs on Gotou's S14 and Kenji heading to places untold.

Kenji smoothed the folds of his _kimono_ and _hakama_, kneeling on the tatami floor of the dojo. He closed his eyes and sat in silence, absently listening to the muted sounds of the city outside the thin walls. Years ago he had committed to memory the times when the dojo was largely empty. He opened his eyes and slowly scanned the dojo; every wall, every tatami mat, every sword stand held memories of the nearly 15 years he had spent training there.

His reverie was suddenly interrupted by the cluttering opening of the _shoji_ door behind him. A young woman stepped into the practice room, making the long walls echo slightly as she closed the door behind her.

Akima stepped slowly into the room; her feet, clad only in _tabi_, made almost no noise on the woven straw floor mats. She approached the man who sat at the head of the large room. Bowing deeply as he turned to her, she said, "Excuse me, but are you the master here?"

He smiled at her, "No, just one of the assisting instructors. Imagawa-sensei is currently on a trip to Fukuoka, he should be back within the week. However, if you're interested in joining our group, I _can _help you with that."

She smiled back down at him, bowing again, but slightly shallower this time.

"Thank you, sensei."

The man stood then returned her bow, "My name is Tanaka Kenji."

"Akima Blaise."

"You're not Japanese? Your speech is certainly impressive."

"Thank you, my mother is actually Korean, but her family lived in Japan since before she was born. My father is Irish-American, which is where the last name comes from."

"I see. Well, it's always good to have a new student. Do you have any experience?"

She nodded, "Some. I took several years of kendo and a little _kenjutsu_ while I lived in America, but I think I've probably lost my touch by now."

"To an extent, you never forget these things, but we'll be glad to keep you in shape."

She bowed again, "Thank you. And, sensei, if I may be so bold,"

Kenji arched an eyebrow, "Yes?"

"I'm very curious to see just how far my abilities may have fallen, so if you are willing, I would greatly value a match."

Kenji grinned, "Of course," he pointed to a rack of _shinai_, "get your weapon."

Akima turned and walked toward the series of wooden stands and bamboo swords.

Kenji reached down for the long bag of green cloth, loosening the drawstring at the mouth. He drew out his own _shinai_, running his hand over the numerous small gouges and scraped in the bamboo, each a reminder of some duel.

Retrieving the practice weapon, Kenji returned to the center of the room and watched with surprise as the young woman hefted a katana-length _shinai_ in her right hand and picked up a bamboo approximation of a _wakizashi_ in a reversed grip with her left.

"You didn't tell me you'd studied _nitojutsu._ Impressive."

Akima smirked and lunged forward, catching Kenji somewhat off-guard. He stepped back a few paces, pulling his katana up into a double-handed guard stance, two feet in front of his torso and parallel with his spine.

Akima pushed forward yet again but, just as the blade in her right hand was about to connect with Kenji's defense, the _shoji _door behind them slid open. Both combatants turned, surprised by the sudden intrusion into their little world. Akima sighed in frustration and rolled her eyes.

"Toshi, how did you find me?"

Toshi grinned and shrugged, "You left your mobile turned on. All of us still have that coordinated GPS we bought last year."

Akima's shoulders slumped; she'd forgotten about that. Oh well, at least there was still a race tonight. She turned back to Kenji.

"_Sumimasen_, it looks like we'll have to postpone this match."

Kenji merely smiled and bowed lightly in response. _I, too, have things to do tonight._

8 hours later, the summit of Irohazaka touge's downhill:

Kenji pulled into a secluded parking space off to the side of the small service station. He wasn't here to race, so why bother drawing unnecessary attention? He scanned over the rest of the cars assembled across the rest of the small parking lot and the open paved lot beyond. A few S13s, Gotou's ever-more-miserable looking S14, Darren's techno-styled NSX, a pair of Honda Integras and a CR-X, and – now this was interesting - a Nissan Pulsar. That would be one to watch out for. Finally, on the end of a long line of cars, was the deep red SW20 MR2 from that night in Yokohama.

Well, at least it appeared that tonight wouldn't be boring.

Gotou caught sight of Kenji's approach to the larger group of drivers and waved him over. Kenji walked over to stand beside the S14, noting the number of new zipties on the front bumper.

"You plan on driving tonight, Kenji?"

He shook his head, "Not if I can avoid it. The R's really not set up for the mountains anyway."

Gotou shrugged, "Fair enough, I guess. Well, at least we can watch Afuro-man show what he can do."

"About that…who do you plan on putting him against?"

"I was thinking that he might be able to take that S13."

Kenji looked back down the line to the yellow Nissan coupe and the driver, who was talking to someone sitting inside the red MR2. Too bad the tint on it was so dark…it would be interesting to know who was behind that machine.

"Alright. We'll see what he's got."

Gotou grinned devilishly and sprinted back toward the assembled drivers, "Line 'em up! NSX and the Silvia!"

Darren slid into his Mugen racing bucket seat and pulled the shoulder straps of the Takata harness over his shoulders, clasping the ends into the wheel-lock at his waist. He reached down to his left, flipping up a trio of toggle switches that controlled the fuel pump, battery, and ignition circuits. Slightly above the three switches, he used his thumb to hold in a large red button. The Honda V6 coughed several times then roared up, quickly descending into a bass burble – the sound of a full race engine, only slightly restricted by the street legal exhaust.

He looked to his right, where the young man with the amusing faux-leather jacket was starting his Silvia. Darren had looked the car over before the race started – Project Mu big brake kit, CA18 with a standalone ECU, plus who knows what else he hadn't been able to see. While his race-prepped C32 V6 definitely had the edge on power, he knew power was not necessarily an equalizer on the touge, especially not on Irohazaka, where ability to take a hairpin turn became much more essential. In that respect, the carbon fiber spoiler he had would help him much more that his stock NSX body would him. No, this was not going to be easy.

_But then, it never is, is it?_

Darren pulled his NSX forward until a wave of Gotou's hand signaled him to stop. He slowly built the revs to just below 4,000, watching as Gotou raised both arms and started counting off fingers. Suddenly, both hands dropped and Darren let out on the clutch, launching the car forward. From what he knew of this course, there would be a decent straightaway with a single kink in the middle.

_I should be able to build a decent lead through here…_

He floored the accelerator, watching the LED lit green needle in the dash-mounted tachometer rise past 9,000 RPM before going to second gear. He kept the throttle wide open and shifted up into third as he entered the gentle right-then-left weave in the road. By virtue of sheer power, the S13 had begun to fall behind as the two cars neared the end of the long straight.

Akima leaned up against a tree trunk a few feet back from the guard rail around the first real corner – an almost unbelievably tight right hander. Once she saw that the American in the NSX had been put against Tarou, she had run down here to the first corner. This was where it was all going to happen. Tarou was one of the best downhillers she'd ever seen and his car was set up to perfectly match his driving style. The NSX was incredibly well set up – she had simply _had_ to get some photos when she first saw it – but it appeared that the American's skills weren't quite on par with his car.

She looked back to the course as the two cars barreled down on the corner, the NSX taking a traditional line on the outside, while Tarou's S13 broke inside and suddenly spun sideways. Akima smiled. Few people had Tarou's skill with a handbrake. The NSX braked hard, the front end diving toward the pavement and Tarou slid the S13 sideways at such an angle that the car was very nearly backwards, it looked like. The NSX driver flinched as the rear of Tarou's Nissan came with centimeters of his fender.

However, while Tarou skidded the car through the corner, front bumper nearly grazing the inside guard rail, the NSX driver jerked the wheel to the left instinctively before he spun it frantically back to the right. It was, however, too late. The left fender contacted the guardrail and bounced off as the car's brakes locked up.

The rear of the NSX spun sideways, the snapped back in line as the driver over-corrected slightly. The air was filled with popping backfires as the engine bounced off the rev-limiter, then began its correct climb up the revs as the driver grabbed second.

Darren swore as he shifted up into second. _ I can't believe I reacted like that…_

He roared down the narrow road. The next sections were at least mostly straight and it looked like he would indeed have to take advantage of any straight road he could get. He pushed the gear knob up into third as the S13's rear lights slowly grew in front of him. But, just as soon as he started catching up, the S13's brake lights flashed once, then twice as the car began to rotate, seemingly moving without friction across the tarmac and clipping a nearly perfect apex to the left corner.

Darren again took a fairly standard racing line, braking hard along the outside then diving into the inside before hitting the power again. Fortunately, this time, he was able to hold the car in check and exit the corner without losing too much ground. Through the next section, Darren was again able to get back up on the rear bumper of the Nissan, but next would be the first real challenge: a sweeping right hand turn which turned into a hard left, which then turned into a severe hairpin right. It was nearly impossible to get a good line.

Darren smiled as he saw the Nissan attack the corner. The other driver braked quickly, sliding the car from the first right into the hard left. There was no way he could get back in time – he was going to have to brake.

Or not. The car suddenly spun nearly 180 degrees and slid around to the right, rear tires smoking themselves away and the rear bumper leaving a thin stripe of bright yellow on the outside guard rail.

_Fine then, two can play at that._

Darren braked and held the car steady through the first right and left; then he grabbed the hand brake and hauled hard on it. The rear wheels locked and began to spin. Darren spun the wheel into the direction of the rotation and feathered the gas. However, the rear refused to stop sliding.

He reached back down and pulled the hand brake again, spinning the car a full 180 degrees as he went "both feet in", holding down the brake and clutch. The car eventually slid to a stop, parallel to the guard rail and a few inches away. Darren let his breath out and looked down over the precipice to where he could see the Nissan flit through the next set of hairpins.

Kenji shook his head and chuckled upon hearing what had happened to the American. It appeared it was true that auto enthusiasts were either born with gasoline or oil in their veins. Darren appeared to be one of the latter; and excellent mechanic, to be sure, but not much of a racer.

_I wonder if we should even keep him around…_

Several yards beyond, Gotou's S14 coughed into life and rolled off to a new parking space, clearing the way for Darren's return. Kenji noticed that one of the Silvia's tail lights was now held together with clear tape.

_No, he'll definitely be staying…_

Kenji looked over to his side as the empty space adjacent him was filled by Gotou's Nissan.

"So Kenji," Gotou said, exiting the car, "Sure you don't feel like running tonight? Bet you could take the Pulsar over there."

Kenji snorted a quick laugh, "No thanks, Gotou. If she feels like coming out to Tokyo, I won't back down, but not here and not now."

Gotou shrugged, "Your loss, then."

"Actually, no; if I don't race, I can't lose."

"You know what I- whatever. You're no fun, Kenji, you know that?"

Laughing, Kenji replied, "Maybe so, but at least my car's still in one piece."

Gotou dismissed him with a wave and walked off.

Across the lot from the two old friends, Akima was trying to keep a low profile and failing.

"C'mon, Blaze, these locals aren't putting up a fight at all. You know you want to."

Akima rolled her eyes, "Fine, Tarou, fine. Let's get this done."

Tarou burst into a giddy smile and took off toward his S13.

_Oh well,_ Akima thought, _at least a new pass should be something interesting._

She edged her MR2 up to the rudimentary starting line, letting out the clutch just enough to hold the car in place on the slight incline. Tarou's S13 pulled up alongside, engine revs spiking and falling as he hit the throttle. Akima shook her head, Tarou may have been the best downhiller on their team, but he was also way too much of a showoff. Drifters tended to get that way if you didn't put them in their place often enough.

_Which is why I'm here._

Akima slowly built up the revs, letting the tachometer needle settle at 3,500 RPM. When the starter dropped his hand, she dumped the clutch and the two-seater tore forward, its twin turbos easily outpacing the single turbo Nissan off the line.

Diving into the first corner – the fresh skid marks from Darren's NSX still prevalent – she stomped hard on the brakes and spun the wheel hard right, letting the rear wheels slip just enough to keep the Toyota from understeering. In her rear view mirror she watched as Tarou did exactly as he had done the first lap, exactly as Akima knew he would. Much as he was an annoyance, the man really did have an uncanny mastery of the handbrake.

That was, however, largely the extent of his ability. As Akima blitzed the long straight leading to the next hairpin, the Silvia again began to diminish in her mirrors – it simply didn't have the power to keep up.

Back at the summit, Kenji was listening with what he considered a surprising amount of interest to the radio reports coming in from corner stations. He was quite shocked to find that the MR2 was actually driven by the girl who had suddenly appeared at the dojo earlier. If her driving skill was any indication, it seemed like it might actually be a challenge to beat her.

The radio crackled to life again and Kenji returned it his full attention. Apparently the cars had just passed the end of the straight sections and were entering the series of switchbacks with the MR2 still in the lead. Kenji swore he could hear an echo of engines just before the radio clicked off again.

Akima smiled at her ever-increasing lead. Tarou's driving style was definitely well suited to Irohazaka, but it also ate through tires at a rather disturbing rate. Akima was extremely glad about her decision to upgrade to a fresh set of Bridgestone Potenzas as soon as she had arrived in Tokyo. She had no problems with grip, unlike the ever more distant Nissan.

_Tarou, Tarou, Tarou…you brought this on yourself._

Laughing briefly at just how much fun this was turning out to be after all, Akima exited a sharp left corner and floored the accelerator, twin backfires coming from the exhaust as the little Toyota jumped forward.

Several minutes later Akima returned to the rest of the racers at the top of the mountain, victorious yet again. Tarou killed the Silvia's engine as he parked next to her.

"I really thought I had you that time," he said.

Akima raised an eyebrow, "I'm sorry, what? As I recall, I had the lead from the start. By the way, it's definitely time for a new set of rubber.

Tarou rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Yeah, yeah. Well, I'll get you next time."

"Don't get your hopes up," Akima said, not quite loudly enough to be heard.

April 04, 1999:

Kenji cradled the ceramic cup in his left palm, balancing the rim with his right thumb and index finger. He took a long pull of the hot tea, letting the warmth radiate out as he tried to press deeper under his _kotatsu._ He idly thumbed through the various channels on the television; finally settling on an old BBC re-broadcast from a handful of years ago featuring an interview with Keiichi Tsuchiya. Several minutes later, though, the show had the sheer gall to say that there were "major problems" with the styling of the R32 GT-R, a simply unforgivable offense in Kenji's mind. Plus the host had serious hair issues.

About the time that Kenji decided there was nothing worth watching on any station, the phone rang. Cursing whoever was forcing him to leave the heated cover, he willed himself out from under the _kotatsu _and strode across his small apartment to see who it was.

"This is Kenji."

"Hey, Kenji! It's Gotou!"

Kenji rolled his eyes "Gotou, what do you want now?"

"Hey, what's with the tone, my friend? I've got news that will legitimately interest you, here."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. You remember my brother-in-law's cousin's son, down in Nagasaki?"

_No, Gotou, of course I don't,_ "Yeah, sure."

"Well he recently started running with a team down there, nothing major, but not half-bad."

"Get to the point."

"Right. Last night, he calls me and tells me that his whole team just got beaten into the ground by some group nobody's ever heard of."

"Gotou, last I checked, someone losing is nothing special."

"Of course not, but how often do you hear of a group that drives nothing but old Corollas?"

END


	4. Chapter 4

**INITIAL D: FRONT RUNNERS**

A/N: Wow, I'm a slacker. ^_^ Anyway, here is my triumphal (not) return to writing. Why you all put up with me I'll never know, but thanks a million for reading, nonetheless. I don't think the parallel stories will end up working out quite as well as I hoped, but hey, "Ambitious but rubbish," _ne minna_? Hope you enjoy! Oh, and before I forget, the next update for Drift Kings is in the works as well, as in "text on page" stage of "in the works," I promise! *nervous laugh*

**A/N2: Sorry about pulling it and reposting, but a friend pointed out a horrific continuity error I can't believe I missed, so there was some last minute re-writing. Plus side - a now have a beta reader!**

**ACT ONE:**

"They all drive Corollas?" Kenji asked. He could see in his mind's eye Gotou nodding on the other end of the phone.

"That's right; specifically, all AE86s."

Kenji thought back to his time racing in the late 80s; he remembered the little car from then. Nothing too spectacular on the spec sheet but it seemed to be imbued with the ability to do whatever its driver desired.

_Except approach 200kph,_ Kenji thought with a bit of a smirk. Nothing wrong with a high strung little car, but they weren't exactly at home on the highways that had become Kenji's nighttime home for the past decade.

"Gotou, give me one reason I should care about another team with what is, let's be honest, not an uncommon car."

"No, but Kenji, these guys are undefeated! They just finished cleaning up almost all the teams in southern Honshu and guess where they're headed next."

"Well, Gotou, from the fact that you've called me, I assume here to Tokyo."

"Y'see, this is why you've always been the leader."

Kenji rolled his eyes and sighed in vexation.

"I'm also going to guess you want me to take on one of them."

"Yeah, no."

An eyebrow arched over Kenji's right eye, "Really?"

"Little late for that, I'm afraid. They've already accepted a challenge from a local pro who still spends a lot of time on the street."

"Plus I doubt they'll be very interested in high speed runs."

"Obviously. Anyway, Kenji, the reason I called is that the rest of us are going out to watch; see what happens. You in?"

"Yeah, why not. When?"

"Tomorrow night, we'll meet up at your place and head out, say, 11:30."

Kenji agreed then hung up the phone; at least this would be something to do.

**April 05, 1999; Shinagawa Seaside, Oikei Parking Area**

Kenji led the small convoy down between several rows of apartments and parking garages. He took particular notice of a white RX-7 on the top floor of one garage, as well as the well-dressed man leaning against the hood.

_Looks like we're not the only people who decided to stake out the course a bit early._

He pulled the R32 off to the side of the road and parked in the small lot to a convenience store, pulling in next to a disturbingly familiar SW20 and an entertaining panda Daihatsu. Gotou, and Darren pulled up along side the Nissan. Darren exited his vehicle and walked out to the street corner, sitting on the curb to await any news of the race. As Gotou got out of his S14 Kenji noticed he was speaking to someone on a cellular phone.

Gotou pressed a button, ending the call, and turned back up to Kenji, "Alright, everything's ready to go at the start line, we should be seeing them come by in a few minutes."

Kenji nodded, "Okay, so where should we be?"

"Over there," Gotou said, pointing to the garage where Kenji had seen the RX-7.

"Let's start walking."

Akima Blaise could not believe she had agreed to this. Going even further back, she could not believe it would have been this much of a mistake to let Yoh look at her car. Her neighbor, a young man who was nearing his twentieth birthday, lived in the apartment next to her and was, apparently, quite the racing fanatic. Which was made more amusing by what he drove: a four year old Daihatsu Move. Said vehicle, it's white and black paint - apparently in the style of some racing prodigy from Gunma Prefecture - shaded by the sparse lighting inside the parking garage, sat several spaces down from the guard rail where the two now stood watching the traffic go by.

"Ah, Buraizu-kun," Yoh said and Akima winced internally both at his attempt to pronounce her last name and at the familiarity of the suffix, "it's a GT-R!" he exclaimed, pointing to the street. Akima looked down, a cheap remark forming on her lips, then reconsidered the comment as she saw the gray R32 with the NSX and patchwork S14 trailing.Maybe tonight wouldn't be so boring after all. And maybe she could find a way to ditch her "companion."

"Walking" ended up also including a climb up six flights of stairs, which quickly turned into a sprint up six flights of stairs as the four drivers heard faint echoes of engines in the distance. This left them rather out of breath, and Gotou none too happy. The white Mazda, interestingly enough, was no longer there.

_Must've gone out the back, _Kenji thought, _He sure picked a strange time to leave, though..._

While the Mazda was gone, that did not mean Kenji and his group were alone. Another pair of people were already at the concrete railing looking out over the street. Kenji recognized the one on the left as the young woman he had sparred against recently and instantly connected that memory with the MR2 in the parking lot below.

"Blaise-san, correct?" he said, approaching her and trying to ignore Gotou's whispered "Did Kenji just start talking to_ a girl_?"

She smiled at him and gave him a bow that was both respectful and as sarcastic as the casuality of their surroundings allowed, "Tanaka-sensei. I can't say I'm all that surprised to find you here."

Kenji laughed lightly, "Nor I you. I assume you don't mind if we join you?"

Akima gestured at the small wall and Kenji, Darren, and Gotou joined the other two up against the concrete railing to both catch their breath, and get a feel for the surroundings from their new vantage point. Directly beneath them was the street they had come in on, with their cars in the parking lot a few hundred meters down it, parallel to their line of sight. Branching off from the street was a small four way stop intersection. Turning right at that intersection, directly into the group's 12 o'clock view, was the continuation of the night's race course - a sharp S-curve that led into a short straight followed by a tightening right corner then disappeared behind some industrial buildings. The majority of the stretch was located beneath a freeway overpass, but streetlamps provided reasonable visibility for onlookers, if not for the drivers.

A sharp sound and faint, acrid scent of burned tires alerted the group to the oncoming racers. A pair of almost painfully bright HID headlights emerged from a sharp turn farther up the street, beyond where Kenji's car sat parked. As the cars drew nearer, Kenji squinted to pick out who it was defending the Tokyo drivers.

He was rewarded by the sight of a deep blue 180SX; however this particular one also bore the front clip off a new S15 Silvia as well as an ironic and rather cute vinyl of an anthropomorphic strawberry on the windshield over the passenger seat. Kenji could have sworn he saw a brown-haired young woman in the driver's seat, but before he could get a second glance the driver slammed hard on the brakes and the nose of the hatchback dove for the pavement. All four wheels were pushed to the limit of grip and the car began to edge gracefully into a four-wheel drift, clearing the post for the traffic light by a handspan.

Following close enough to still be in the afterglow of the Nissan's tail lights came the blocky, red and black AE86 hatchback. Massively widened fenders concealed the tops of fat tires as the small three door flashed past the row of garages, braking and imitating the 180SX's elegant cornering. Kenji heard the Toyota's engine spike in volume, as well as the almost painful increase in whine from a supercharger, as the driver dropped the transmission down a gear.

Then both cars were past and into the S-curves, cutting through the shortest racing line, neither yielding even a centimeter. The two dove fast into the sweeping right corner and the tails of both cars began to step out ever so slightly as the drivers drifted to scrub off speed as the corner's radius tightened.

As the challengers disappeared from view, Gotou pumped a fist into the air triumphantly, "Maybe that'll show those guys what's what!"

Kenji sighed and shook his head, "The 180's not going to win, Gotou; did you see the way that Levin was all over it? It could have even tried to pass in the S-turn, but held back. Whoever's driving the Nissan is trying too hard, which is why they missed the down-shift coming out of that intersection. Eventually they'll mess something up and then that'll be the end of it."

"So that's it, huh? No chance?" Darren asked, looking out over the still-bustling city, listening to the fading roars of engines and peals of wearing tires.

"I can't say that; who knows what could happen. However, I've seen enough races to know it's not likely."

"Okay, okay, enough with the depressing," Gotou said, clapping once, "We lost, whatever; losing happens. Now then, it's just past midnight and we're five young people with nothing to do. Who's up for finding a karaoke place that's open all night?"

Darren grinned at Gotou, his rare predator's smile. Akima rolled her eyes and shrugged, but the sparkle in her eyes suggested she was hiding excitement with nonchalance. Yoh looked back and forth between the four others, confused but excited to be in the company of actual racers. Kenji sagged against the railing and rested his forehead in his palm.

_Looks like this is going to turn into a very long night..._

The next morning they found out that Kenji had, of course, been correct. It had been a close finish, but the Toyota had still edged out a win - it slipped through a seemingly non-existent gap between the blue Nissan and some roadworks barriers, onlookers had said.

The greatest shock from that night, though, had come with the news that both of the competing drivers were female.

"They were WHAT?" Gotou had shouted into his phone and making Kenji nearly jump out of the chair he was seated in.

"Who were what, Gotou?" he had asked.

Gotou placed a hand over the phone's speaker, "Both of those cars we saw last night were driven by women, Kenji, and _attractive_ women at that!"

No wonder Gotou was in such a fuss, "You know, female racers really aren't all that uncommon anymore."

"No, but me missing out on them is. I suggested we go for karaoke and ended up missing the end of what was essentially the automotive equivalent of a catfight! Do you understand what that means, Kenji?"

"You're becoming old and sensible?" Kenji quipped dryly.

Gotou glared pure malevolence at Kenji but did not reply, returning instead to his other conversation.

_Which is just as well,_ Kenji thought, turning back to the computer situated on the small desk in front of him. He typed a few strokes on the keyboard and watched the webpage slowly resolve before him. He scrolled through the listings, noting prices, locations, and other factors. Much as he adored his R32, it seemed as though the highways in Tokyo that had been his home ground for so long were slowly being taken away from him. On top of that, through Gotou and the others, he was finding himself being drawn into the world of the midnight _touge_, rather than the Midnight Club.

Through all of it though, it was beginning to seem unlikely that he could continue to depend on the old GT-R, either due to the ever expanding bubble of the law, or through a racing environment where it was less suited. Which led him to where he was now: combing the internet, browsing used car lots and tuning shops, and trying to ignore Gotou's insistence that he buy a matching S14.

_I don't think any amount of work could make it _match _yours, Gotou._ Kenji thought with a smirk.

Then his eye caught something and he was jolted back from his mental lampooning of his old friend.

_This -this has some potential...It'll work in the mountains, but I can make it work on the wangan again if I want, as well..._

Kenji saved the page and turned back to Gotou, who had just finished his fuming to whoever had been on the phone.

"Hey, Gotou, feel like a roadtrip?"

Gotou immediately brightened, then turned suspicious, "Kenji, the last time you suggested we do something that was potentially fun, I think we both had little red backpacks."

Kenji ignored that remark, "I need some help with something in Matsuyama."

"Matsuyama? Hm...eh, why not. What is it I'll be helping with, exactly?"

"You'll see, my friend. You shall see. Oh, and by the way, call Darren and tell him to meet us at this address with a truck."

Gotou took the small sheet of paper Kenji handed him and headed back toward the phone, "This just keeps getting weirder and weirder, Kenji."

Kenji smiled, looking, Gotou thought, far too much like some sort of evil mastermind, "Just you wait and see, Gotou. Wait and all will be revealed to you."

Eight days later and with Gotou in the passenger seat, Kenji strapped himself into his Skyline for what would be the last time. He would most certainly miss this car, it had seen him through quite a lot over the two years since he left the police, just as its predecessor had seem him through the years he'd been there.

_But life moves on,_ Kenji had decided to himself. And what better way to fully move forward from his past experiences than to get a new car that would symbolize his new life. He had spent the last two days cooped up in a tiny office with little else to think about, but that had been a necessary sacrifice - a shift swap with a co-worker in order to facilitate his trip today and tomorrow.

Kenji moved smoothly through the gears, accelerating down the freeway on-ramp and into traffic, heading south.

Several hours later and a much more exhausted Kenji arrived in the town of Matsuyama, on the northern shore of Shikoku's Ehima Prefecture. He wove the GT-R through countless small streets, following only the directions he had written on the paper that was now being read to him by his "co-driver."

The directions were the final act of a series of long email conversations between himself and the owner of a small speed shop who also dealt in modified cars. In brief, they had ultimately come to the agreement that, for the price of Kenji's R32, he could take both his new car and a selection of parts for it.

Kenji and Gotou finally found the shop, an older, but well kept up garage with two maintenance bays, a small store, and a gated lot behind it. Kenji pulled the GT-R to a stop next to the Mitsubishi flatbed truck that Darren was waiting for them with. He waved to the arriving pair and stepped down from the cab.

"So, Kenji, what exa-"

Before Darren could finish his question, a small man emerged from beneath a lift in one of the repair bays.

"Ah, sorry, didn't notice you pulling in. Tanaka-san, yes?"

"Kenji stepped forward and bowed lightly, "That would be me. And you would be Imaki-san?"

Imaki-san nodded and turned to Kenji's car, "This would be it, then."

"That's right, feel free to look it over."

"That's alright, I can see from here that it's in the condition you described it as."

"Our deal stands, then?"

"It most surely does; I've had this thing sitting in my lot for nearly eight months now, I'll be thrilled to have it gone.

At the sound of that, Darren and Gotou exchanged a confused and somewhat worried glance. Did Kenji really know what he was getting himself into?

Kenji tossed the Skyline's keys to Imaki-san who pocketed them and then set about showing Darren where to back the truck up to so they could put Kenji's new car on it. Darren slowly worked the big Mitsubishi around the small area and packed it up facing a gravel driveway that led around the side of the shop to the lot out back. He and Imaki-san lowered the folding ramps, forming a makeshift path onto the bed of the truck. Then Imaki-san led everyone around to the back lot where he pointed out Kenji's new vehicle. It sat there in the corner, a shamble of bent bodywork and scratched deep blue paint.

"It's hideous," Gotou said, staring, "It's perfect for you."

Darren on the other hand looked vacantly at it, lost in a world of his own. Then he walked up to the car, lifted the hood and stood there for a moment. Then he snapped back to the present, "Remind me not to doubt you Kenji. This definitely has potential."

Kenji smiled at his two companions, "Glad to hear you agree. C'mon, let's get it on the truck and get it home."

The three Toyko men, with Imaki's help, attached the small winch on the truck to the front bumper of the car and watched as it was pulled rather helplessly onto the back of the carrier truck. They strapped down the wheels and then Kenji and Imaki went into the storefront to finalize the paperwork for the vehicles.

Gotou looked over at Darren who was perusing the stacked exhaust parts and suspension coils in the derelict car's back seat, "So, you think this means Kenji's coming around to our way of racing?"

Darren looked back up at the Japanese man, "I think it means that we'll be heading back to the mountains very soon."

END


	5. Chapter 5

**Initial D: Front Runners**

A/N: Yay, I'm updating at a reasonable pace now! And here's the first epic race in...what feels like quite a while. ^_^ Hope you all enjoy!

**ACT TWO**

**April 20, 1999:**

Kenji tightened the final bolt holding the seat slider in place then set the ratchet down in the footwell near the clutch pedal. He stood up from his crouch, settled himself into the snug Bride seat, and tentatively slid it back and forth a few times, wiggling the seat base around at each extreme to test the solidity of the frame. Satisfied, he leaned out of the car and picked up the four verdant red straps of the Sabelt harness. Pulling aside the small flap of carpet he'd cut away, he threaded the two bolts he'd picked up through the holes in the harness and then through the matching two in the floor panel of the car. He reached around the underside and secured each bolt with a small nut before returning to the interior of the car and fitting the shoulder straps through the spaces in the top of the seat, finishing by clipping them into the factory seatbelt clips in the rear seat. He gave each strap a sharp tug and exited the car. Darren grinned behind him.

"How's it coming?"

Kenji spun and returned the smile, "Pretty well, I think. The interior's done, now all that's left to do is replace the front bumper, rebuild the engine and suspension, get some new rubber on it, get it repainted, and get it broken in.

Darren shook his head, "You really sure you haven't bitten off more than you can chew with this project?"

"Maybe I did, Darren. But I just wouldn't feel right racing something I didn't built and tune with my own hands."

"I can understand that, but I do hope you know you can't pull it all off on your own."

"Obviously; especially given how little experience I have_ touge _racing, which is why I got in touch with your _gaijin_ friend who lent you the truck we picked up the car with. Y'know he has really good Japanese, for a foreigner."

"Glad to know you feel that way. Speaking of him, he called and said that your next parts will be in soon and he'll have them sent here; should be about a week."

Kenji nodded in affirmation; things were progressing slowly, but they were still progressing.

**June 30, 1999:**

Kenji lifted the breather off of his face and gave his work a final check. Reasonably satisfied, he set down the paint sprayer and exited his makeshift paint booth, lifting the large plastic sheet aside. Before setting the sheet aside, he looked back in at the gleaming new aero front bumper. Not that the stock aero kit wasn't enough - it most certainly was - but the new front bumper was significantly less broken.

_Bodywork - check, _he thought with satisfaction, _One more issue down..._

He shrugged out of the plastic overalls that were now stained deep green from overspray and gave another adoring look back at his work in progress.

**August 22, 1999:**

_Four polished high compression pistons - check. Four strengthened con-rods - check. Two high-lift cams - check. Turbine and blow-off valve - check. One polished OEM head - also check. One reworked engine - ready to be assembled._

Kenji cracked his knuckles and smiled down at the assortment of parts on the table before him.

Hours later, and the basic engine was back in one piece - still lacking any exhaust components, wiring, or any driveline beyond the flywheel and clutch, but recognizable as a complete unit once again. Kenji waved behind him, motioning Darren forward with a massive engine hoist. The two men looped a long section of chain around the engine, securing each end to a metal hook on the side of the engine block.

"Alright, let's take it up."

Darren nodded and began working the manual hydraulics of the hoist, lifting the bare engine several feet off the shop floor. The two maneuvered the heavy setup around to the front of Kenji's car, rotated the engine into the proper orientation, and began to slowly lower it into position, with Kenji guiding it onto the proper mounts and into alignment with the already-installed transmission bellhousing.

"Ok, Darren, hold it there," he looked back down at several of the attachment points for the engine, "and toss me a 10mm socket."

Kenji stepped back from the engine bay long enough to snatch the small piece of metal from the air and attach it to the wrench he had picked from its position on top of the fender. He pulled a series of small bolts from a plastic bag also sitting on the fender and began an initial hand tightening of them into the spaces that would eventually hold the engine and transmission together.

**September 18, 1999:**

This was it. Very nearly half a year's worth of work and today would be the culmination of all of it. Hopefully. Kenji took and deep breath and let it out. He leaned around the edge of the dash, poking his head through the open driver's door window.

"Well, here we go," he said, and Darren gave him a hopeful thumbs-up in return. Kenji depressed the clutch and turned the key. The engine coughed several times and whined as the starter motor turned over but nothing happened. Kenji let the key go slack in the ignition then tried again. Nothing. He again returned the key to the "off" position. A third try: this time the engine whined, coughed, then finally sputtered into life. Kenji watched as the idle rose toward 1,500RPM.

"Any leaks?" he called over the ragged sound of the engine.

Darren shook his head, "None yet, but there's a fair amount of air in the coolant lines - it'll take a few minutes for it all to bubble out."

Kenji nodded - that explained the high and slightly rough idle. However despite the amount of coolant splashed out from the top of the radiator by escaping air, the engine temperature remained safely in the middle of the gauge.

After a few minutes, coolant ceased splattering from the radiator and the idle dropped back to its normal settings. Kenji killed the engine and stepped out of the car as Darren shut the hood.

"Gotta say, Kenji, not bad. Not bad at all."

"Thanks; I really appreciate your help on this whole thing. Doubt I could have finished it on my own, in all honesty."

"Don't mention it. Just don't ask me to race you now that it's done."

Kenji laughed, "Fair enough."

**December 02, 1999:**

As Kenji pulled into the parking lot for the small shop in the mountains near Nikko, he was fairly certain that the past three weeks had been the longest of his life. But as of yesterday, his car had hit the mileage he had selected as sufficiently broken in for the engine, therefore it was time to head up here and get her dialed in. He soon found the shop's American owner in one of the maintenance bays, welding reinforcing brackets into the interior of an ECR32 Skyline. Kenji stopped his car, walked over, and rapped a knuckle against the wall. The man looked up from his sparking torch then flipped up his blacked-out face mask and smiled.

"Hi there. Can I he-" he paused when he saw the car parked outside, "Ohh, that's right, Darren's team leader. Tanaka-san, correct?"

Kenji nodded, "That's right, but please just call me Kenji."

"Alright then, Kenji. I'm Grant. The car looks great, by the way. Darren said you just finished a full frame-up rebuild."

"That's right."

"Not bad, not bad at all. So what is it I can do for you; you seem to have things pretty well handled by the looks of it."

"I'm not particularly experienced at touge racing yet. I'm here to find a setup I can work with."

"Now that I can help you with."

**Three days later:**

Kenji slowly edged his car onto the dynamometer, killed the engine, and flipped the headlight switch to the "off" position.

"How was that run?" Grant asked, looking at him over the screen of a laptop computer.

"The best yet; what did you change?"

"I lowered the rebound rate on the shocks a bit and stiffened up the rear sway bar. I also reset the torque split a little more rearward. Does it rotate too much in the corners?"

"It starts to slip a bit, but give it some gas and the front wheels catch it at just about the perfect time."

"That's what I like to hear," the American said, shutting the laptop and walking over to a peg board on the far wall of the garage.

"Tell you what," he said, "If you think you've got it set about how you want, how about a little shake-down run?"

Kenji smiled, "A race?"

"If you wanna call it that. Just a casual run - you, me, downhill on Iro. What do you say?"

"Why not. A little practice race will probably do me some good."

"That's the spirit! You go on ahead and wait for me at the gas station at the top of the mountain. I've got to re-adjust my tire pressure really quick, but I'll be along within a few minutes."

Kenji nodded and headed back to his car, then left the garage and turned course toward the downhill. Mere moments later he pulled into the parking lot of the small gas station. The station was small enough that it wasn't even open 24 hours. As such, it now sat empty and dark, the only illumination coming from the parking lot flood lights and the brilliant moon in the cloudless sky. Kenji stepped back for a moment to admire his finished work in the deep shadows behind his headlights. He had debated long and hard about what car to replace his beloved R32 with and time and again, this was what kept coming to the top. He had to admit, he hadn't been a big Mitsubishi fan, but this Lancer Evolution V had just been too good a deal to pass up on. And now he had absolutely no reason to regret his decision.

Or at least he hoped not. This race might change things.

_Probably not, though,_ he thought. _His Supra is the same model as Hajime's and should have the same problems on the touge that my Skyline would have. My Lancer was built for roads like this...I can take him._

At that moment a pair of headlights reflected off the glass of the gas station's windows, then off the paint of Kenji's EVO. A white JZX90 Chaser pulled in next to Kenji's Lancer, and in the street beyond, facing downhill, sat not the white Supra Kenji had been expecting, but rather his EVO's classic arch-rival, the Group A monster - a deep blue Ford Escort RS Cosworth.

Kenji shook his head and chuckled softly, "I should've guessed you wouldn't be bringing the Supra, but I never expected this."

"Yeah, it's not often I get to give this the type of drive it deserves. You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Then line 'em up," Grant gestured to the Chaser, "Yumi-chan, count us off."

The slender woman nodded and ran out to stand beside the guard rail as Kenji lined up parallel to the Euro-Ford. Yumiko raised her left hand, holding up five fingers.

"Five! Four! Three! Two! One!"

"GO!"

She dropped her hand and Kenji dumped the clutch, launching the Mitsubishi forward with little drama but considerable force. He grabbed second gear, then third, then fourth as the two cars barreled down the first straight and through the quick right-left kink, noting the Lancer's shorter gearing compared to his old Nissan as he did so. Thus far, the two rival rally machines remained fairly even, however Kenji assumed the American was holding back slightly, since he estimated there was a power discrepancy of about 30 horsepower between his EVO and the Ford.

_Fine, if he wants a cornering battle, I'll give it to him._

The pair approached the first corner, which was also one of, if not the most, difficult of the course. Kenji bounced the gear lever down through third into second as the engine screamed in protest, bouncing off the rev-limiter. He kept the clutch held in and grabbed the handbrake which threw the car violently sideways and scrubbed off signifcantly more speed, but also served to block nearly 90% of the narrow road, denying the blue Cosworth any chance to pass. Kenji floored the gas and resisted his instinct to countersteer, instead letting the EVO's computer do all the work of stabilizing the car.

He powered out of the turn, straightened the wheel slightly, and took off down the ensuing straight with the Ford still in hot pursuit. Kenji had just made it back up to fourth gear when he dropped back down to third and dove hard on the brakes. The slight rear bias on the braking force allowed the rear of the car to rotate a few degrees before the downforce from the massive rear wing planted it again. Those few instants of slip, though, were all Kenji needed to get the Mitsubishi's nose pointed squarely at the corner exit and get him in a position where he could fiercely reapply the power and rocket out of the corner.

_It really is amazing, _he thought as he wove the car through a series of shallow bends, _this car almost feels like it could drive itself..._

He checked his mirrors and saw that the Ford had not yet lost any ground to him. The American was a good driver - if nothing else, Kenji had to give him that. Coming into the next corner, the first of a series of descending switchback hairpins, Kenji again braked hard and lined up alongside the mountain itself, setting up for the sharp right. To his surprise the Ford flashed past him on the right in the short kink before the actual hairpin right. Coming out of the kink, Grant let the car begin to rotate left, then the brake lights flashed and the blue Escort snapped back to the right, smoke billowing from all four wheels as he drifted through the bend, a display of precision and power rather than grace and elegance.

Coming out of the bend himself, Kenji now found himself trailing the Ford by a good twenty meters or so. Seeing that they were coming onto one of the relatively long straights on the Irohazaka downhill, Kenji hit a small toggle switch mounted next to the air-conditioning panel. This was something he had kept a secret from everyone as he built the engine - his secret weapon. At the flick of the switch, a surge of new programming flooded through his turbo's electronic boost controller and a series of secondary settings activated, spiking the boost PSi provided by the engine's turbine. Kenji shifted back up to fourth gear and found himself riding a bow wave of torque as his boost scramble kicked in. This move brought him back up on the Ford's rear bumper and he de-activated the scrambler as the two entered the next hairpin, a slightly gentler left this time.

Grant drifted the Ford yet again, using the same tactic Kenji had applied in the first corner to block off most of the road, leaving Kenji forced to slam on the brakes to keep from hitting an opponent who was cornering somewhat slower yet leaving no opportunity to slip past. The same sequence was repeated through the next succession of five turns; right-left-right-left-right. The green road sign before the next left was one of Kenji's landmarks, it signaled that this lext corner was one of the gentler in the course - more specifically, it was an increasing radius corner; it started sharp, then gradually lessened out as it progressed. Grant again used the handbrake to break traction in the rear and slide the Cosworth along the standard outside-inside-outside racing line. Kenji meanwhile braked early then stuck his front bumper very nearly to the inner guard rail, moving forward while the Escort slid a few meters farther to the right. This left Kenji with both the inside line exiting the corner and a slightly higher exit speed. He flipped the scramble boost switch yet again, just for some extra insurance, but it was almost unnecessary as he pulled back in front of the EVO's old nemesis.

Kenji managed to hold onto his lead, despite struggling through a few tense sections, for the remaining entirety of the course. Shortly thereafter, the two drivers regrouped at the summit gas station. Grant got out of the Ford and raked a hand through sweat-slicked hair.

"Well, that was sure fun."

Kenji smiled, also glad to be out in the chilly night air, "Yes it was. Iro is quite a course."

"Tell me about it. Hey, nice trick there with the boost scramble. I thought I might have had you on that first straight there."

Laughing, Kenji replied, "I may not have too much power, but I've planned for eventualities where I may need a little extra 'boost.'"

The brown-haired American rolled his eyes at Kenji's pun, "The car notwithstanding, you've got some pretty good skills and instincts for someone new to the touge."

"New to the touge," Kenji pointed out, "Not new to racing."

"Ah, fair enough. Hey, listen, you think you'll still be around tomorrow?"

Kenji arched an eyebrow, "Well the be honest, I had kind of figured on going back to Tokyo. Darren and a few others are expecting me back."

"I imagine they'll be here."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said. You remember that all-AE86 team?"

Kenji thought back to the race versus the S15-faced 180SX months ago at the Tokyo seaside, "Yeah, but I haven't really been in touch with recent street standings since I started this project."

"That's certainly understandable. Let me get you caught up: a few weeks after they finish off the Tokyo teams, they move north into Saitama, clean up the teams there, and then head into Gunma. First race in Gunma they blitz the course record on Mt. Myogi, but before they even have a chance to set up a second challenge, out comes Ryosuke Takahashi -"

"The White Comet?" Despite being from a slightly earlier era of racers than the famous son of Gunma, Kenji was all too familiar with the legend of the white FC3S.

"The same. Anyway, he comes out and says that he'll take the 86's challenge, but asks for three weeks to prepare. They agree and decide to move on for the time being."

"All well and good," Kenji said, "but what does that have to do with my group from Tokyo being in Nikko tomorrow?"

"The 86s are moving due north, I've heard they want to hit Hokkaido then come back to finish off Takahashi in Gunma. On their way to up to Aomori, they'll be stopping here. We've got a little coalition of teams getting set up here to try and stop them."

"Really?"

"That's right. Four of us, including yours truly, versus four of them. We may lose, but hopefully we won't lose _all_ of them."

"Interesting...so I assume word of this showdown has gotten around and the galleries will be pretty full."

"Exactly, and knowing Darren, I can't believe he would miss seeing something like this."

In the cockpit of his NSX, Darren Rochteaux suddenly sneezed rather violently. He shook his head to try and clear it. Maybe all this time overseas was finally starting to get to him. Oh well, soon he would be at the onsen where he and Gotou would be spending the night before heading to the race at Irohazaka tomorrow. It was sure convenient to have a massive race meet so close to one of Japan's best hot-spring areas, especially with regard to people coming from different prefectures.

As Darren pulled into the ryokan's parking lot with Gotou's rolling wreck close behind him, it seemed from the makeup of the cars parked there that many other racers felt the same way. He laughed at seeing a pair of cars with matching team stickers parked next to each other. They had matching vanity plates, with the car from Kagoshima Prefecture bearing the English characters "SAT" and the one from Yamaguchi Prefecture reading "CHO."

_Never thought I'd see a joke about Japanese history on a vanity plate..._Darren thought. Then he saw something he recognized - the dark red SW20 MR2 that seemed to follow him, Gotou, and Kenji everywhere they went.

_Or maybe we're following it,_ he thought with another laugh to himself. Oh well, at least there would be someone here he would know. Someone not Gotou. Darren pulled in and parked next to the mid-engined Toyota just in time to see its owner exit the front doors to the ryokan with a short young man in tow. Where he was almost bubbling over with exuberance, she looked none too happy with the arrangement.

Darren exited the Honda and locked the door behind him, watching from the corner of his eye as Gotou attempted to use zip ties to re-affix his loose radiator. Given that the engine was still hot, and the sound of his cursing, it wasn't going well. Trying to ignore the angry man and his dying S14, Darren walked over to the Asian woman's car, waiting for her and her clinging follower. He saw the girl visibly brighten when she saw him.

"Darren-san!" _Oh thank you God I'm saved, _Akima thought. She turned to look at Yoh apologetically, "I'm really sorry, but I need to catch up to him real quick, excuse me."

She came toward Darren at something slightly less than a sprint, leaving her rather bewildered charge wandering off toward Gotou and his rather loud issues. As she approached Darren she looped an arm conspiratorially around his shoulder and her voice dropped into both a low whisper and into English.

"Hi, um... just walk along and talk with me for a few minutes... I'll owe you one, just please help me out here."

Darren recovered quickly from his initial shock of hearing her speak his native tongue, "Help you out? With what exactly?"

Akima gave a small, nearly imperceptible flick of her head toward her follower who was now rather engrossed with Gotou's "work."

"That would be my neighbor, Yoh. I made the mistake of showing him my car one day and now he insists on following me to any sort of automotive event - and I mean anything from an actual race to going to Autobacs to buy a new oil filter."

"Ouch..."

"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, he's very nice, but..."

"No, no, I get it. But what do you want me to do?"

"I just need to get away for a little while. There's got to be something you can do to help me. Tell him we're going to a love hotel or something - anything!"

Darren stifled a laugh, "Well I'd be glad to help you, but it looks like we're both off the hook tonight," he pointed over to where Gotou was now instructing the young man in the proper technique of using zip ties. Darren was not particularly surprised, actually. Yoh seemed to be someone who'd believe almost anything he was told, especially from a racer, and Gotou was all too happy to talk. They were a match made in Heaven.

_Or Hell, from the view of us two, _Darren thought, looking over his shoulder at Akima.

_Oh well, at least there's racing tomorrow._

**END**

The players are now all in position for an epic showdown on Irohazaka! Will the driver's coalition be able to defeat Hachi Shokku? Will Akima successfully ditch Yoh? Will Gotou ever get his car working correctly? Some of these answers and more next time! Don't Miss It!


End file.
